


Always You

by MoneyIsMyAwesomeLife



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Honestly What Else Did You Expect From the Creepypasta Fandom, M/M, Murder, Slash, Slender Forest, Slender Mansion, There's Not Nearly Enough Fics For These Two, Violence, so here i am
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2019-11-01 09:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17865029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoneyIsMyAwesomeLife/pseuds/MoneyIsMyAwesomeLife
Summary: The Puppeteer and the Bloody Painter are already having enough trouble realizing what they felt for each other. It didn't help at all when a new creepypasta who seemed to be everything that the Bloody Painter likes arrives.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the creepypastas here. Also, please no hate on any of them. Their creators worked very hard to create the characters. Some may be depicted in controversial ways, but that's just my interpretation of the creepypastas.

The Puppeteer has a huge crush on the Bloody Painter.

He doesn't know when the attraction first began. Maybe it had always been there, ever since they laid eyes on each other, but something about the Painter just drew the Puppeteer in. The Puppeteer had never realized what gravity truly is before he had met the Bloody Painter. He couldn't extricate himself even if he wanted to.

The Puppeteer wasn't sure if the Bloody Painter is aware of his affections or maybe even reciprocates them. Probably not. But the Puppeteer  _just_ _knew_ that there is a connection between the two, be it platonic or romantic.

"...Puppeteer?"

The Puppeteer blinked, shaken out of his musings by the very person occupying it. "Yes?" he replied, the end of the word tilting up slightly on instinct. 

The Bloody Painter hesitated, a slight blush crawling up his cheeks. He has his mask off today, something that he rarely did in front of anyone else but the Puppeteer. 

"You've been acting... _strange_ lately," the Bloody Painter murmured. "What's wrong?"

The Puppeteer couldn't help but lift his lips in a bitter smile. There has been a new arrival at the Slender Mansion. Normally, it wouldn't bother the Puppeteer very much. Some, like the Bloody Painter and the Puppeteer, were permanent residents. Others were nomadic, and stayed briefly for shelter and news before moving on. Others built their own homes in the endless expanse of the Slender Forest, just far enough to be completely alone, but also close enough to be able to run for help.

The Puppeteer doesn't know if this particular newcomer would be a permanent resident, move on, or settle down in some small corner of the Slender Forest. He desperately hoped for the second, or even the third. Just not the first.

And it isn't that easy to be able to live in the Slender Mansion, as well. Only powerful creepypastas could live in the Slender Mansion. A creepypasta's power is determined by how many humans know about them. So some random creepypasta who can kill with just a thought is still significantly weaker than, say, Jeff the Killer. 

But this particular creepypasta might just make it in. 

Her name is  _Judge Angels._ An absolutely terrible name, if anyone asked the Puppeteer. She was blonde and blackeyed, and wore an outfit he thought was positively indecent. 

But her clothing, as revealing as they were, aren't what irritated the Puppeteer the most.

It was the way she looks at the Bloody Painter, with admiration and adoration plain on her face. And the way the Bloody Painter warmed to her almost immediately.

Yep. That annoyed the hell out of the Puppeteer. 

"No. Nothing's wrong," the Puppeteer lied smoothly. 

The Bloody Painter raised an eyebrow, but let him have his privacy. He returned to his sketchbook, working intently.

The Puppeteer bit his lips, wondering if he should ask the Bloody Painter a question that bothered him constantly, ever since  _she_ came. 

"What do you think about that newcomer, Judge Angels?" the Puppeteer blurted out. 

The Bloody Painter looked up from his sketchbook in surprise. "What?"

"Judge Angels," the Puppeteer repeated. "What do you think about her?"

"She's...nice..." replied the Bloody Painter after some deliberation.

The Puppeteer tore at the blades of grass surrounding him. They were out in the Slender Forest, in their own special little clearing that they came whenever they could to spend time together. The clearing isn't exactly pretty, and the constant fog in the Slender Forest gave it a tired, gray look, but it's their secret place.

"Do you think that she's...pretty?" the Puppeteer tried again tentatively. He was simultaneously dreading the Bloody Painter's answer and fearing that he had gone too far and the Painter will retreat into his little shell that the Puppeteer had spent  _ages_ coaxing him out of. 

The Bloody Painter's blue eyes burned a hole through the Puppeteer. The Puppeteer shifted nervously and coughed, waiting for the Bloody Painter's answer.

"I suppose so..." said the Bloody Painter cautiously.

The Puppeteer's heart dropped down into his stomach. "Ah."

The Bloody Painter set down his pencil and stared out into the mist of the Slender Forest. After a long and stiff silence, he finally spoke. 

"Jonathan."

The Puppeteer stared at the Bloody Painter in surprise. They rarely used each other's real names. The Puppeteer had wanted a new identity, a new beginning when he became a creepypasta, and the Bloody Painter respected that. After all, the Puppeteer did the same thing for him. They only used each other's real names when they're extremely serious.

But, somehow, the Puppeteer liked the sound of his real name on the Bloody Painter's lips. The name also brought back a distant memory...

"Do you... _like_ Judge Angels?" the Bloody Painter asked abruptly.

The Puppeteer gaped at him, jarred out of his thoughts. Then, he realized that the Bloody Painter was being serious. He couldn't help it, and burst out laughing. 

The Bloody Painter watched as the Puppeteer practically rolled on the ground. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, pondering his best friend's erratic behavior.

He honestly isn't sure about how he felt about Judge Angels. Yes, she's very nice, and also very pretty. But he honestly haven't given her much thought. At least, not until the Puppeteer brought her up. 

The Bloody Painter had never heard the Puppeteer bring up another creepypasta before, and it vexed him. Even though the Puppeteer denied any attraction towards Judge Angels, the Bloody Painter still couldn't get rid of the little seed of suspicion in his mind. He knew that it's illogical to be so jealous. After all, his friend deserved happiness, so he should wish them well. 

The Puppeteer suddenly stiffened, and sat upright. The Bloody Painter tensed as well, hand flying to the knife he kept at his side. After so many years of collaboration, he could easily recognize when his partner-in-crime sensed danger. 

In the distance, a figure clad in white approached.


	2. Chapter 2

The Bloody Painter relaxed as he realized that the figure was just Judge Angels. However, the Puppeteer still kept his posture stiff, his expression guarded.

“Masky said I would find you two here,” she began hesitantly.

“Why would you look for us?” the Puppeteer asked hostilely, an almost imperceptible accent on the word “us.”

Judge Angels shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess that I got lonely. I’ve only been here for a few days, and the Bloody Painter is the only one here who I talked to, so…” she trailed off, black eyes sliding into the distance. “I can leave, if you want.”

The Bloody Painter usually didn’t involve himself in social affairs, and certainly not ones that involve going again the Puppeteer’s wishes. But he liked talking to Judge Angels, and he thought that the Puppeteer was being unfair to her, so he interrupted. “No. Stay.”

The Puppeteer whipped his head around and stared at the Bloody Painter in surprise. The Bloody Painter avoided his friend’s accusatory gaze, and turned back to his painting.

Judge Angels smiled in relief, and sat down in front of the Bloody Painter. For a while, the three sat in awkward, stiff silence. The Bloody Painter was absorbed by what he was painting, Judge Angels was seemingly fascinated with a blade of grass, and the Puppeteer was glaring into Slender Forest.

A wild jealousy had burned in his chest when the Bloody Painter stopped Judge Angels from leaving. Did it mean that he likes her? It must, since the Bloody Painter was willing to put Judge Angels above the Puppeteer. But he had only known Judge Angels for a couple of days. The Puppeteer had been friends with him for many, many years. Did Judge Angels really matter so much to the Bloody Painter?

Finally, Judge Angels spoke, unable to bear the thick tension any longer. “What are you painting?”

The Bloody Painter’s brush stilled as he hesitated. “It’s not done yet.”

“That’s okay.”

The Bloody Painter reluctantly turned his easel towards the Puppeteer and Judge Angels. Judge Angels inhaled sharply, awed by how realistic and beautiful the painting was. The Puppeteer could only stare in wordless amazement.

The first thing that the Puppeteer noticed was that the Bloody Painter had drawn the gloomy, misty meadow that they were in. The second thing he noticed was the gray figure lying in the grass, bright golden eyes half-closed, lips forming a lazy smirk. Whereas the mist was thick in all other parts of the painting, there were no mist to be seen near the Puppeteer at all. In fact, it was colored warmly, as if the Puppeteer was some sort of beacon, emitting light and warmth.  
The Puppeteer himself was drawn with meticulous care, and it was a perfect depiction of him, lounging back on the meadow, looking as if he was the most carefree person in the world.

The Bloody Painter blushed as the Puppeteer’s golden eyes flashed up to meet his. He had drawn several portraits of his friend before, but the thought of the Puppeteer himself examining those portraits felt strangely…intimate.

“Wow,” Judge Angels murmured, looking at the Bloody Painter closely. “It’s a gorgeous painting.”

The Bloody Painter was suddenly glad his mask was securely in place. Something in Judge Angel’s gaze felt too penetrative and knowing. It frankly unsettled him.  
“Thanks,” he muttered.

The envy and rage that had burned inside of the Puppeteer completely dissipated at the sight of the painting. Instead, he was filled with a happy, floaty feeling. He was suddenly seized with the desire to grab the Bloody Painter’s hand and dance off into Slender Forest together, leaving Judge Angels behind to look at the painting, to look at how much care and work the Bloody Painter put into every line, every mark.

“We should probably start heading back,” Judge Angels suggested. “I’m pretty sure the Slenderman said that dinner would be at six.”

“You’re right,” the Bloody Painter agreed, looking up at the scarlet sky, tinged dark maroon from the dying day. Nature operated differently in the Slender Forest. Skies were a bright, blood red, and the clouds an ashy gray. There was no sun in the Slender Forest, and yet the skies were still colored a shade darker during dawn and dusk. At night, the sky turns into a pitch-black color, and two moons shone vermilion.

Trees grew tall and gnarly and unruly, with no apparent need for sun or water. Normal animals are nonexistent. Instead, the edges of the forest prowled ancient and terrifying beasts. However, they usually kept away from the center, where most portals open into and where the creepypastas reside. But there had been cases of creepypastas wandering off to the edge and being devoured by those beasts.

It’s strange. It’s unsettling. It’s the Slender Forest.

The Bloody Painter began to clean up, and the Puppeteer habitually collapsed his easel and shouldered it. It’s been the same routine for decades.

“Can I help?” Judge Angels asked.

“We got it,” the Puppeteer interrupted, before the Bloody Painter could speak.

Judge Angels held up her hands, as if trying to appease the Puppeteer. “Alright.”

The Bloody Painter gave the Puppeteer a look, and the Puppeteer scowled, avoiding his reproachful gaze.

The trio headed back in absolute silence. Judge Angels snuck a peek at the Puppeteer. He was still silent and scowling.

Judge Angels frowned. It was clear he wanted her gone. Of course, she doesn’t have to stay at a place that doesn’t welcome her, but…she just thought that the Bloody Painter would make a good friend, and she has longed for a friend for so long…

Judge Angels was so deep in thought that she didn’t see the creature until it was too late.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Judge Angels noticed about the creature were its eyes.

They were somehow colorful, but also completely colorless all at once. It swirled and changed every millisecond, but also somehow stayed still. Judge Angels could've spent all of eternity looking into those eyes, trying to figure them out.

She reacted just barely fast enough, ducking and ripping her sword out of its sheath. She slashed at the creature, but missed. It was simply too fast.

Golden strings wrapped around the beast, stopping it from pouncing on Judge Angels. She looked at the Puppeteer in surprise, who was frowning in concentration. She had never thought that the Puppeteer, or all people, would choose to save her...

Judge Angels met the Puppeteer's golden eyes. An unspoken agreement passed through them. She stabbed her sword into the creature's chest just in time as the Puppeteer's concentration finally broke, letting the beast go.

Judge Angels pulled her sword from the creature's body just before it could swipe at her. Metal and claw made a hideous sound as Judge Angels raised her sword above her head, fighting the beast's strength with all her might.

The pressure suddenly eased. Judge Angels looked up, and saw that the Bloody Painter had somehow climbed onto it's back and buried his knife into the creature. It howled in pain, but seemed relatively unbothered by the attack.

The Puppeteer sprang into action. Strings roped around the creature. It didn't seem to hurt the beast much, but it hindered some of its actions. It growled in frustration, and backhanded the Puppeteer, sending him flying into a tree. 

Now, it focused on the Bloody Painter while Judge Angels rushed towards the Puppeteer. The Painter dodged the monster's attacks nimbly, and stabbed it whenever he could, his gaze full of hatred. But his pants, growing more and more ragged each time, suggested that he wouldn't be able to keep it up for long.

The Bloody Painter yelped, as the creature slashed his arm. Judge Angels gasped, but before she could rush to his rescue, the Puppeteer roared. It was one of the angriest sounds Judge Angels had ever heard, and it stopped her on her tracks.

Golden string wound around the beast's neck as the Puppeteer jerked, physically pulling the creature away from the Bloody Painter. Even though he was deathly pale and looked like he had barely any strength left, he still managed to move thr beast.

Suddenly, static ripped through Judge Angels's mind. She instinctively pushed a hand against her ears, but let it fall when she realized that the static was in her head. She looked up just in time to see a tall, pale, skinny creature wrestling with the one who had attacked them.

Judge Angels breathed a sigh of relief as the Slenderman managed to subdue the beast. She was about to take a step towards the Puppeteer when the Bloody Painter beat her to the punch. He held the Puppeteer's head against his chest, and glared at Judge Angels, as if she was about to laugh at him.

For a moment, no one talked. The trio breathed heavily, looking at each other, while the Slenderman disposed of the creature's bpdy. Judge Angels thought she caught a glimmer of admiration in the Puppeteer's eyes, but perhaps it was just her imagination. 

_Come with me._

Fighting through the splitting headache, Judge Angels peered up at the tall, faceless man. He looked down at them, head slightly cocked towards the side. His tuxedo was slightly messy, she was surprised it wasn't ripped or full of holes after the brawl. Judge Angels looked at the Bloody Painter and the Puppeteer. The former shrugged, and the latter rolled his eyes slightly before rearranging his features into a complacent disinterest.

Judge Angels followed the Slenderman as the Bloody Painter picked up the Puppeteer and slung him over his shoulder.

"Hey!" the Puppeteer complained, as he smacked the Bloody Painter's butt "Carry me in a more comfortable way! I'm an invalid!"

The Bloody Painter blushed, and carried the Puppeteer bridal-style. Judge Angels briefly marveled at the Bloody Painter's ability to handle someone a few inches taller than him before realizing that, as a ghost, the Puppeteer probably weighted nothing.

 

The Slenderman didn't say anything for the remainder of the trip back to the Slender Mansion. Whenever the Puppeteer met Judge Angel's eyes, he beamed at her, as if showing off the fact that the Bloody Painter was carrying him, and she tried to ignore him. The Bloody Painter looked ahead evenly, seemingly unaware of how the Puppeteer was gloatingl at Judge Angels. He seemed to be deeply lost in thought. Judge Angels thought that his eyes were a lovely shade of blue, especially when unfocused.

Judge Angels blushed, and looked away.

Soon, the Slender Mansion came within eyesight. Judge Angels once again marveled at its grandeur. It was massive, covering at least 100 acres. It stood four floors tall, towering against the dark maroon sky. It was painted a dark, Oxford blue. The windows were shut, with curtains pulled over them tightly.

The Slenderman led them into his office, at the very end of the Grand Corridor. By that time, Judge Angels and the Bloody Painter were gasping with effort, while Slenderman seemed completely fine, and the Puppeteer was reclining in the Painter's arms.

 _Have a seat,_ the Slenderman summoned three seats out of midair and set them in front of his desk.  _We need to talk._


End file.
